


Inks of Dreams

by Innwich



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Crushes, Hunter Dean, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Punk Castiel, Tattooed Castiel, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 10:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3116870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Innwich/pseuds/Innwich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean was settling in well at his new school. He made a friend, and kept himself and Sam fed while John was away on his hunting trips. What was more, Dean found himself crushing on a punk kid that had intense eyes, tattoos, and mysterious parties that no one would talk about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inks of Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SilverVendetta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverVendetta/gifts).



It was crowded near the lockers. Dean had to squeeze past a couple of chatty jocks to get to his locker.

It didn’t take long for Dean to find the stuff he would need for school today. The only things he kept in his locker were a few secondhand textbooks and a pair of gym shorts. It wasn’t just because this was a new school and Dean had only been here for a few weeks, it was because he never knew when they had to pack up and leave town in the middle of the night.

(Dean understood why Dad had to do that: They were hunters; they had to travel light. Sam, on the other hand, had had a huge blowout fight with Dad a few weeks ago, because of some stupid books he’d wanted to get back from their last school.)

However, Dean hoped they could stay a little longer this time.

Dean let his gaze wandered down the hallway, where Cas was pulling books out of his own locker.

Despite the weather, Cas was wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt. Some of his tattoos peeked out of his collar, and the rest of them wound down his arms. Not a drop of color was used in his tattoos. They were all in black, and somehow they looked good on Cas, swirling lines of ink that stood stark against his skin.

Dean had spent an English class watching Cas writing down notes and the way that the black inks had moved with the flexes of his hands. He’d missed a huge chunk of what Mr. Hudson had been saying about Shakespeare that morning.

“You’re crushing on him so hard,” Charlie said.

“No, I’m not,” Dean said, watching Cas pluck out a slip of paper from his locker. It was another one of those guys that put in a reservation at one of Cas’s weekly parties.

Man, the parties.

Cas’s parties were only spoken of in whispers at the back of classrooms. Half of the school was convinced that Cas’s parties were fueled by the largest stashes of drugs found on this side of the state line, and the other half insisted he hosted orgies in his house while his family was away.

Though the parties were supposedly open to anyone who wanted to come, Cas was too weird for everyone. Not many people had actually gone to his parties, and those that had wouldn’t say anything about what went on there.

Cas closed his locker, and met Dean’s eyes. Dean was being sucked into those clear blue eyes, which reminded him of the cloudless sky at a sunny beach and a sea of algae glowing in the dark. Dean could imagine Cas tracing eyeliner around those baby-blues, and he might just die a little. A small sticky death.

Before Dean could do something inappropriate, like popping a boner right in the hall, Cas turned to walk in the other direction, and disappeared behind a group of noisy sophomores.

“He’s dreamy,” Charlie said. “And nice.”

“How do you know that? No one talks to him in school,” Dean said. “He isn’t a bottom feeder. He’s so far outside of the food chain I don’t think he’s part of the eco-system anymore.”

“It’s way too early for a Biology class.” Charlie yawned, and it cracked her mouth wide open.

Dean had to stop himself from yawning too. He swore those things were contagious. A late night was something that Dean understood. “Did you stay up playing D&D last night? You’re kind of pale.”

“No, I just had a good dream,” Charlie said. Her smile was tiny and wistful, not the bright grin she usually wore. It stopped Dean from cracking a joke about the Doublemint Twins.

The bell rang. Dean winced. He would never get used to how shrill the bells at schools were.

Charlie shouldered her backpack. “Seriously, Cas is nice. You should talk to him.”

After home room, Dean had a free period. He wasn’t one of those over-achievers that wanted to squeeze as much AP classes as they could into their schedules. It wasn’t like he would become a hunter by knowing how to play around by numbers. Dean took his Walkman and headphones, zipped up his jacket, and headed outside.

The sports field was empty; it was too early for gym classes or track meets. Someone was sitting on the bleachers, though, busily writing on a notepad on his lap.

Someone up there must really hated Dean, because he could recognize that messy head of hair from anyway.

Cas had put on a hoodie, but a bit of his tattoos were showing on the back of his neck, as he bent his head over his paper. Dean licked his lips. No, he had to stop thinking about how far those tattoos go under Cas’s shirt.

“Hey,” Dean said.

Cas looked up from his pad. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean didn’t realize Cas actually knew his name. Hearing Cas said his name did funny things to his stomach. “What are you doing out here? Hiding from the teachers?”

“I’m doing homework,” Cas said.

“Haha. Good one,” Dean said. He waited for the punchline, but it never came. All he got in reply was Cas’s frown. Dean stopped laughing. “You were serious?”

“Yes,” Cas said. “I have to finish my English essay. I was busy last weekend.”

“One of your parties, right?”

“How did you know about it?”

“Dude, everyone knows about your parties,” Dean said. “So, can I come?”

“No,” Cas said.

Dean blinked, and had to take a second to find his voice again. Sure, they weren’t friends, but he hadn’t expected Cas to shut him down so bluntly. “Why not?”

“You can’t come,” Cas said.

“Why not?” Dean said. “Is this some exclusive club that I have to earn my way in?”

“You can’t come,” Cas repeated, and lowered his head again, working on his English essay.

“Can’t you at least tell me why?” Dean said.

Cas ignored him, leaving him standing at the foot of the bleachers like an awkward schoolgirl that had just been rejected by a date.

Well, Dean wasn’t gonna slink back into school because he’d been dismissed by some guy. He plopped down on the bleachers, put on his headphones, and turned up the music as far as it would go.

Cas wrinkled his nose, which was how Dean knew Cas could hear AC/DC being blared out of his headphones. But since Cas didn’t say anything and kept working on his essay, Dean made no move to turn down the music. They spent the next hour without exchanging a word, and Dean might have sneaked a few peeks at the tattoos on the back of his hands.

A few minutes before the next bell rang, Cas slipped back inside school. Dean waited until Cas was gone, and gathered his stuff and jogged to the Chemistry lab.

\- - -

Dean grabbed his tray of fries, mixed vegetables, and watery Mac and cheese. It was easy to pick out Charlie’s red hair from the sea of bobbing heads in the cafeteria, and Dean fought his way to the table near the back.

Dean set down his lunch tray on her table. “Guess what happened?”

“What ?” Charlie said.

“I talked to Cas.”

“Told you. He’s a nice guy,” Charlie said.

“No, he’s a dick,” Dean said.

“What you’d been talking about?” Charlie said.

“I asked him if I could go to his party this week, and he said no. I mean, what the hell? I thought it was an open invitation to everyone,” Dean said.

“Really? I’ve never heard him turning away anyone before,” Charlie said.

“Guess I’m a special snowflake.” Dean grunted. “I bet he has shitty taste in music.”

“Don’t be so cut up about it, Dean,” Charlie said. “I’m sure Cas had his reasons.”

Dean hadn’t been really that interested in Cas’s parties. Curious, maybe, but it wouldn’t have killed him or anything. But now that he had been told to take a hike without so much as an explanation? Dean was dying to see what went on at those stupid parties.

Charlie wolfed down the last of her Mac and cheese. She wiped her mouth and picked up her lunch tray. “You know what? I have a date.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Not everyone is a lonely old man,” Charlie said. “Ciao.”

Dean was left with his lunch tray at the table. He pushed his Mac and cheese into a corner of his plate; the pasta sagged in an overcooked pile. “I’ll find out what you’re up to, Cas.”

\- - -

It was easy to work out where Cas lived. A flip through of the phone book told Dean what he wanted to know. Dean left a note on the desk in the motel room, and set out on foot to Cas’s house.

Cas lived in the suburbs. Dad had taken the impala on his hunting trip, so Dean had to take a bus and walked the rest of the way there. It was late and cool in the evening. Most families had retreated back into their houses, and gathered around their televisions to watch some late night shows.

When Dean arrived at Cas’s house, he had to double-check the number on the door to make sure he got the right place. Cas’s house was dead quiet; there was no music, no laughter, no talking. The lights were turned off. It didn’t seem like anyone was home.

Dean lingered on the sidewalk. No one was coming in or going out. The house was as dead as a graveyard. But Dean knew he’d gotten the time right; the party should have started an hour ago.

Dean tried the door. It opened easily.

“That’s weird,” Dean said.

The foyer was quiet and dark and tidy. There were no signs that a party had ever been held. Dean was starting to think the whole thing was one practical joke.

Then he heard it: A faint hum of music that was coming from the living room.

The lighting in the room was low and faint.

The music was nothing that Dean had thought that Cas might listen to. The music was slow and calming and interlaced with the sounds of water waves, like one of those soundtracks that recorded whales singing deep underwater.

Dean squinted in the dim light. Cas was standing next to a kitchen table, where half-full blood bags were laid out on it. Cas picked up a bag, and placed it carefully in a mini-fridge. The mini-fridge was packed with identical bags of red liquid.

Dean felt his stomach drop when he saw what else was in the room.

Lounge chairs were arranged in a circle in the middle of the room. People were lying on the chairs. Their eyes were closed, and their bodies were eerily still and lax. With his heart in his mouth, Dean realized he recognized a few kids from school. And shit, he knew that redhead. She looked pale, but it was definitely Charlie.

Cas stood in the center of the circle. His eyes were blue, bluer than usual. It took a moment for Dean to realize that was because Cas’s eyes were glowing, literally, with blue light shining out of them. His tattoos on his arms and hands were glowing like a living thing, bathing the entire room in the weird light.

Cas reached out with a glowing hand to touch Charlie on the head.

“Hey!” Dean said.

Cas turned around, and the light in his eyes flickered. “Dean.”

Dean pulled out a silver knife from his jacket, and plunged it into Cas.

Cas looked down at the knife. He didn’t scream or swear like other monsters. He wrapped a hand around the hilt, and pulled the knife out of his chest. His skin didn’t even burn like it should at the touch of silver.

“What the hell?” Dean said.

“I’m not a shapeshifter,” Cas said. The knife dropped to the floor with a clatter. “Or a werewolf.”

An alarm rang. Dean started badly. He nearly tripped over his feet in his haste to get away from the sudden noise. Cas switched off the alarm clock the was sitting on a coffee table.

“Time’s up,” Cas said.

And, to Dean’s shock, the captives were groaning and waking up. A guy wiped a bit of drool from his chin, as he sat up on his lounge chair. People were stretched and yawning, getting up from their chairs.

“Dean?” Charlie rubbed her eyes. “What’re you doing here?”

“Uh…” Dean said. How did he say ‘breaking and entering and stabbing someone during a super-secret slumber party’ without sounding like a psychopath?

“Dean dropped in for a visit,” Cas said.

“We just come here and sleep for a while. Best sleep I’ve ever got. I know it is lame,” Charlie said with an embarrassed smile. “That was why I didn’t want to tell you.”

Cas switched on the lights. Some of the guys were making their way to the door. Dean made sure to take a careful look at each and every one of them. Some of the guys that walked past Dean had a distant look in their eyes and seemed lost in their own little world, but there were no cuts or bruises, no signs that something horrible had been done to them.

Charlie tapped Dean on the shoulder. Her hair was sticking up in every direction, and her eyes were crusty, but she looked fine. “Is everything cool?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Everything is cool.”

“Are you sure?” Charlie said. “You look kind of tense.”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” Dean said. “I just gotta talk to Cas.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it now?” Charlie teased, but Dean was too keyed up to laugh. The joke fell flat. Charlie cleared her throat. “Well, it’s getting late. See you at school tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

The front door closed. That left Dean and Cas standing in the middle of the circle of doom. Cas hadn’t moved from where he’d been standing since Dean last saw him. Cas had stopped bleeding, The skin behind the hole in his shirt was whole and unmarked.

“What are you?” Dean said.

“I’m a Djinn,” Cas said.

Dean racked his brains. He’d never heard of Dad hunting something with that name before. “A genie?”

“A Djinn. I can’t grant wishes,” Cas said. “I can only make people fall into a deep sleep, and grant them their wishes there.”

“You mean you knock them out with roofies?” Dean said.

“No, with a touch of my hands,” Cas said drily. “You might have seen me using my powers before you stabbed me.”

“I saw the blood you were hoarding, Cas. What was that about?” Dean said.

“I took some blood from them while they were asleep,” Cas said. “They didn’t know.”

That explained why those people had looked pale. If they felt weak, they probably thought it was because of the nap they’d been taking. Dean said, “That’s fucked up.”

Cas flicked his gaze downwards, breaking eye contact with Dean. That was ominous. Dean didn’t think he’d ever seen Cas avoiding his eyes. “We need to feed on blood from people who’ve experienced the dreams we give them. It makes the blood taste sweeter… happier.”

“Feeding on dreams and happiness,” Dean said. “And I used to think genies are wacky blue dudes that live in oil lamps.”

“What?” Cas said, cocking his head to the side.

“You know, the guy with a monkey friend? Princess Jasmine? _Aladdin_?” Dean said. “Disney cartoon?”

“I don’t understand any of that,” Cas said.

“You’re definitely not Robin Williams.”

“No, I’m Castiel.”

Dean didn’t mean to, but he laughed, a full belly laugh that ruptured from deep inside him. It hurt his cheeks and his sides, and tears were squeezed out from his eyes. Cas watched him laugh with a small smile, even though he didn’t get the joke.

Dean wiped his eyes. “You’re killing me, Cas.”

“That’s not my intention,” Cas said. “Are you going to tell your father?”

“What are you talking about?” Dean said.

“I know your father is a hunter, Dean. New arrivals here don’t go unnoticed,” Cas said.

“You think I’d rat on you to my dad?” Dean said. “Why would I do that? He’d kill you.”

“He would tell you it was the right thing to do,” Cas said.

“How would you know that? You’ve never met my dad.”

“It is what most hunters would say,” Cas said.

Dean had to stop himself from looking at Cas before he was guilt-tripped into making a decision that he was gonna regret. Dean didn’t know that much about monsters; Dad only talked about monsters when he was telling Dean how to kill them. Monsters were not supposed to be Dean’s age. They were not supposed to be people that Dean knew from school and had stupid crushes on.

Monsters were not supposed to be a boy with a name and a pair of soft blue eyes.

“I’m not like most hunters. To tell you the truth, I’ve never even been on a hunt by myself before,” Dean said. “But since you aren’t hurting anyone, I figure Dad doesn’t have to know about this. What do you think?”

“Thank you,” Cas said, letting out a long breath. Dean hadn’t realized Cas had been that worried, and he was an asshole for breaking into Cas’s house and making Cas feared for his own life. Cas shouldn’t be thanking him.

“Uh, this is probably the point where I give you a speech about how I’ll have to come after you if your powers go out of control and someone gets hurt,” Dean said. “But I think you know it better than I do.”

“I never let them come for more than a few weeks,” Cas said. “It isn’t healthy for them to lose too much blood.”

Dean groaned. “Dammit, Cas. I don’t need to know that.”

“Not every monster is a monster, Dean.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to see that,” Dean said. Cas’s eyes were as blue and clear as they’d been the first day Dean had laid eyes on the strange kid with the freaky tattoos. Cas was staring back at him, and Dean was losing count of Cas’s eyelashes because Cas was leaning closer and closer and-

And Dean’s stomach decided to ruin the moment by grumbling loudly.

Cas pulled back. “You’re hungry.”

“I was expecting to find a party, not a friggin’ sleepover,” Dean said.

“I’m sorry,” Cas said.

“It’s not your fault. I’ll just head out to grab a burger,” Dean said. Tonight hadn’t turned out the way he’d thought it would. He checked his watch. A quarter past nine. Well, the night wasn’t over yet, and there was still time to salvage it. “Do you want to come with me?”

Cas blinked, thrown by the sudden invitation. But then he smiled, and said, “A burger sounds nice.”

Before they went, Cas insisted on leaving a note for his family. It was strange seeing someone like Cas doing stuff that was so mundane. It’d almost been more normal to see Cas putting away blood in a living room filled with unconscious people.

The streets were quiet and cold. Cas stayed close to Dean’s side, and his arm brushed again Dean’s now and then. Dean didn’t say anything about it. It was nicer than walking by himself on a cold winter’s night.

“Can I ask you something?” Cas said.

“Sure.”

“Do you want me to grant you your wishes, Dean?” Cas said. “I could do it without taking your blood. I don’t mind.”

Dean took a hold of Cas’s hand, and held it up in the space between them. Cas’s tattoos snaked over his arms and wrists and knuckles. The tattoos were nothing but lines and curls and messy scribbles; they were like Rorschach tests, holding creatures and monsters and infinite possibilities.

Cas was gazing curiously at him, waiting for an answer.

So Dean squeezed his hand, tattoos and all, and held on tight. “You’re already granting my wish, Cas.”


End file.
